


The Cage

by ransackrumble



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Getting Together, Hogwarts Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ransackrumble/pseuds/ransackrumble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to mind your own business leads to...something rather unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 She can play the part of a good girl who turns promiscuous in the shadows well enough.

 

She goes out with a boy when they ask her (why would she refuse them) and lets them fuck her (it’s all the same to her) if the date hasn’t been a complete fuck up in which case she just stays quiet and makes a swift excuse to get away. The sex she has is not experimental, almost boring. Mostly she wants to keep it clean. Sterile and cold. She needs her space. She can’t get involved, not lavish them with her attention when it brings no satisfaction to herself. It doesn’t take long to get from I want to please you to I want to be with you.

 

It gets repetitive and dull but it could be a lot worse, she assures herself. It’s normal to date and have sexual relationships. It’s the best she can do.

 

Sometimes they ask her if she’d like to ‘hang out another time’, perhaps ‘get more serious about it’. She refuses every time. She thinks it sort of pathetic, how they think they have a chance because they’ve seen her naked once. She’s acquired a reputation by now, not a very flattering one. Cho can’t find it in herself to care.

 

When her friends ask if she’s okay she rolls her eyes, like it’s the craziest thing she has ever heard.

 

“What, me? Not okay? Oh, no, honey, no, I’m fine!” and she laughs and laughs and laughs, for too long and a bit too high-pitched. She never gets it right. They usually leave it at that for which Cho feels grateful. She can count on them not to care too much. She wouldn’t know how to explain.

 

So when they, she and Marietta and a bunch of other girls coop themselves into one of the bedrooms to chat privately, girl talk if you will, she pretends to be just like them. A teenage girl who’s curious about boys and sex and makeup and parties. Just because they’re Ravenclaws doesn’t mean they don’t know how to have fun.

 

If she can’t play her part well enough she steps aside. She knows there’s only so much to her acting skills. She’ll pick up her books and head to the library, grimacing at her friends so they can see how much she hates the fact she can’t come right now, if only she didn’t have this project she desperately needs to work on. They don’t really make the point of asking her after she has refused them so many times in succession but it still happens occasionally, something special comes up and Marietta pulls at her sleeve and whispers into her ear: “There’s this one thing I want you to see.”

 

Cho stays adamant. She shakes her head. She is busy, surely she understands, right? Marietta looks disappointed, her lips twisting into a mournful put but she doesn’t say it. She doesn’t point out that Cho does twice as much work as others. She doesn’t want to fight, Cho knows that. It suits her well. She’s an easy friend to keep.

 

There are certain advances in having a friend or two, like when they have to do work in pairs. Others shy away from her, they don’t want to be associated with someone like her. Her friends, though, they refuse to believe the rumours.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Marietta might say, seething. “They don’t know shit about you!”

 

What Cho thinks is I think they know more about me than you do but she doesn’t want to fight either. She still likes Marietta, though she wishes she wouldn’t be so clueless about it all. She wishes she would understand her, just a little bit.

 

Today, however, Cho doesn’t feel like seeing anyone. She wanders in the hallways aimlessly. She hopes no one crosses her path and thus far she has been lucky. Most of the students are currently in Hogsmeade and the rest of the bunch is probably packed in their respective house’s common room, huddled together in front of the fire place. It’s bloody freezing this winter. Cho pulls her robes tighter onto her body and rubs her arms vigorously. It doesn’t help much.

 

When she catches a glimpse of fluttering robes disappear behind a corner it takes her a moment to process it. She halts, bemused. There was something about the figure that made her think there was something odd going on, something that ought to be kept behind locked doors. Her curiosity piqued, she hurries after the mysterious person. She tries to be sneaky and soundless, her steps feather light, lifting the helms of her robes to stop them from shuffling against her legs noisily. It’d be terrible to be caught red handed in such an embarrassing act. She bites her lip nervously but doesn’t dare to back off. What’s done is done. She simply has to see this through now.

 

Together she and her prey run about the castle. A few minutes later Cho feels a chill go down her spine. She gets an uncomfortable feeling that her actions she herself thought to be merely spontaneous were a carefully calculated plan of the pursued one. Her palms are wet with cold sweat and she feels a lump in her throat.

 

Now that she is closer she can make out a few characteristics of the person. Quite tall but not sturdy as far as Cho can tell, seeing that the cloak the person is draped in covers most of the body. She sees locks of dark hair tumble out from underneath the hood. Most likely it’s a girl but she can’t be sure. There are plenty of boys with long hair these days.

 

Abruptly the dark figure stops in front of a large oak door and opens it after a beat. The person stops to wave about with one hand, as if asking someone to step forth. Cho feels her whole body grow hot with acute shame. Was that a cue for her?

 

Oh, shit, she thinks. I’m screwed.

 

She doesn’t have much time to think. The person sneaks inside the room, leaving the door ajar. She frowns, considering the situation objectively. It’s unlikely that it’d be something she couldn’t handle, even if it turned out to be a trap. Besides, she doubts there are any real dangers. It’s a school. It doesn’t make sense. She avoids thinking of all the incidents that have taken place in the premises of the school throughout the years she has been attending Hogwarts.

 

Then again, she doesn’t have a thing to lose, has she? She takes a step forward, stops immediately, hesitating and chides herself for being such a coward. What’s the worst that could happen? she thinks irritably. That’s right. See, nothing to be afraid of. She forces herself to walk to the door.

 

She presses her palm against the door, stroking it lightly. She’s always loved the carefully measured details in the architecture of Hogwarts. The carvings, the sculptures, the portraits, vases, mosaics, all of it. It’s graceful and beautiful and shows intelligence. She wants to be like that, aims to be like that, she thinks absently.

 

She knows she is stalling but she can’t make herself move, not yet. She’s been avoiding collision on purpose this year for she doesn’t know what sort of events she would trigger were that to happen. She can act, sure, but she needs rest too. She can’t handle being an actress around the clock. She needs a few moments here and there for herself, to peel off all her deceiving layers, to drop all of her costumes she wears to please the others.

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind she acknowledges that she is but a fool for going through all this pain for practically nothing. Yet she can’t let go of it. She’s terrified.

 

At last she steps into the room. It’s a medium-sized cupboard, cramped full with everything starting from brooms to cauldrons, books piled up high and then there’s a large chest on top of which sits a quite familiar figure, namely Pansy Parkinson. She has taken off the cloak, underneath she has her ordinary school uniform paired with a showy pendant hanging from her right between her breasts. Cho chooses not to stare.

 

“What are you doing here?” Cho blurts instead.

 

“What are you?” Parkinson asks in turn. She is smirking, tilting her head to the side, those dark curls framing her angular face. She’s pretty like a picture.

 

“No, I mean, uh,” says Cho. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Hogsmeade?”

 

“Aren’t you?” answers Parkinson. Cho grits her teeth.

 

“This is stupid,” she says heatedly.

 

“Isn’t it?” says Parkinson. She giggles. Just as Cho is about to embark on a rather rude response Parkinson opens her mouth again. “So, care to tell why you were following me?”

 

Cho looks away, flustered. She’s not so sure herself now that she thinks about it.

 

“I just felt like it,” Cho says defensively.

 

“Felt like it?” she echoes. She sounds amused, not necessarily in the condescending way Cho’s got used to hearing from her but rather amiably. Cho’s head snaps right in her direction, studying her carefully. Parkinson’s eyebrows rise questioningly.

 

“Yeah,” Cho says after a stretched silence. She stands there with her hands pressed into fists, her finger nails gouging the flesh of her palms and she’s trying to tell herself to leave, leave right now. For some reason she doesn’t budge. The atmosphere in the room is different. Just slightly, she can barely feel it, but for her it’s enough of a reason. She doesn’t feel pressured to do anything. They’re both strangers to each other and this, whatever it was, is just something temporary. A onetime chance.

 

She seats herself next to Parkinson who shuffles awkwardly to make space for her. Their thighs are touching, Cho can smell her perfume and inside her head all warning signals are blaring for her to consider again, back off and think it through. She doesn’t listen. She feels a little light-headed and she laughs, relaxed.

 

She knows she should hate her with all her heart but right there and then it feels silly to hold onto old grudges. It excites her, going against all expectations.

 

Parkinson seems puzzled. There’s a crinkle between her eyebrows.

 

“You’re weird,” Parkinson concludes bluntly.

 

“I am?” Cho asks, genuinely surprised.

 

“No offense but Ravenclaws don’t usually hang out with us out of free will nor do they stalk innocent people for no reason at all,” she drawls. Cho hums thoughtfully. That’s a good point. She is out of control.

 

“Well. It just sort of happened,” she says.

 

“Interesting,” says Parkinson. She crosses her legs, reaches into the pocket of her robes and fishes out a pack of cigarettes.

 

“Mind if I smoke?”

 

“Not at all,” says Cho though she hates the smell of tobacco. Her dad was an avid cigar smoker and he’d smoke inside. It was terrible, her clothes would smell like smoke for days.

 

Pansy snaps her fingers and the cigarette lights. She brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply. Her eyes close in obvious pleasure and Cho watches as she blows the smoke out of her nose. They sit there in silence, she smokes and Cho fiddles with her hair absentmindedly. She can’t figure out a safe topic so she stays quiet. It’s kind of nice.

 

“Shouldn’t you get going?” Parkinson says. Cho raises her gaze to meet hers. She doesn’t look pissed, not exactly, but there’s obviously something she wants that she can’t have if she is there to stare at her. Cho gets up hurriedly, feeling awkward and she brushes imperceptible dust off her clothes. As she is about to exit the room she gives Parkinson a last fleeting glimpse over her shoulder.

 

She is staring right back at her.

 

* * *

 

They meet occasionally in the hallway, or their gazes meet in the Great hall over the long tables and flocks of students separating them but other than that they don’t talk. A few times Parkinson has smiled after she has formed an eye contact with her and Cho smiles back obediently. That’s it. There just haven’t been opportunities to approach her so that it would come off natural. She doesn’t want to seem desperate. Though why she cares so much she can’t tell.

 

After all, she is usually the one being pined after.

 

A month or so passes until they get into talking distance again. Even then it is a pure coincidence. She’s in Herbology and she is chosen to go get the nurse after an unfortunate allergic reaction one of her peers had got from a certain plant. She pretends to be annoyed though she doesn’t mind much. Having walked all the way to the nurse’s office, she knocks on the door firmly three times before entering the room.

 

Madam Pomfrey is hunched over a patient. She looks over her shoulder and says: “What is it?”

 

That is when Cho can see Pansy Parkinson leaning against a wall in the corner, playing with her hair. Cho stares and she makes a face at her.

 

“Oh, gosh, what’s happened to her?” Cho asks Pomfrey politely. Parkinson yawns in the background.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. Now, tell me, what can I do for you?”

 

Cho blinks. “Right.” She explains her reason for being there as quickly and efficiently as she can, all the while feeling Parkinson’s eyes on her, studying her amusedly from her corner. For no reason at all Cho’s palms start to sweat and the collar of her blouse feels tight against her throat.

 

After she has finished her story Pomfrey leads her out, muttering something about not bothering the patient. She glares at Parkinson and tells her to stay where she is, at which she laughs. Cho doesn’t protest as Pomfrey takes her by the shoulder and pushes her out of the room. There isn’t any reason for her to say. She gives the last quick glance at Parkinson, who has creeped to an open cupboard. Cho snorts.

 

Yet she can’t ignore the twinge she feels in the pit of her stomach, thinking about her, that twisted red mouth, those sweat-soaked sheets under the nameless patient, the sterile smell surrounding the room, the three of them in silence but she is laughing, at them or with them. Cho feels fluttery, like she could fly if she tried to. If she just had the courage to jump.

 

At lunch, she still hasn’t managed to shake off the feeling that she should do something. She pokes at her food apathetically as she tries to figure out what her friends are currently discussing and whether it needs her input. She taps the floor with her black, shining shoe nervously. Tap, tap, tap. Squeaky, wet sound yet so sharp. The bustling and humming of the student body, all that chattering around her, it makes her head throb.

 

She tries to spy across the room the Slytherin table. She doesn’t find the one she’s looking for and she sighs. At that moment her friends burst into laughter. She has never felt more alien to these people.

 

She manages to sit still on her seat for approximately 5 minutes before she glances again at the Slytherin table. She’s still not there. Something akin to disappointment threatens to show on her face. Cho exhales deeply and makes up her mind.

 

She ignores Marietta’s concerned inquiries (“What is it, Cho? Where are you going, Cho?”) and strides across the Great hall to the exit, through the corridors. She doesn’t know where to look, she didn’t stop to think about that at any point. She feels her cheeks reddening stupidly. How clumsy of her. What do you think you are doing? she mocks herself.

 

She doesn’t bother to try and answer the question.

 

She slides down a wall to the floor. Luckily there isn’t anyone around. Lunch time and all. Sensible students would be in the Great hall and not looking for a girl who makes them uncomfortable in all kinds of ways.

 

She groans quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She isn’t about to return to her friends now but it feels pointless and just a tad bit obsessive to look for Parkinson any longer. What could she even say if she found her? Hi, I just wanted to see you? But we’re strangers to each other, she reminds herself.

 

Why would she want that?

 

* * *

 

 

One day, she gets a note.

 

Today, in the Astronomy tower, 1 AM. Be there.

  * P



 

Straight to the point and blunt. She likes that. However, she has no idea who this mysterious P might be. She has been with several boys with either first or family name starting with the letter P. It’s just as well for she’s been bored lately and it doesn’t really matter who it is that gives her a bit of that spark. She likes adventure.

 

Of course, it could be just a prank. Nine times out of ten it wasn’t, so she doesn’t worry about it too much but she still considers it a possibility. She frowns. She doesn’t care about being fooled that much, not when it’s in such a childish manner. However, she doesn’t want to just take the mockery like she was one dumb clueless twat.

 

They wished they could be just like her. She wished she could be one of them. Life isn’t fair.

 

She feels quite upbeat the whole day. The prospect of something happening later at night fills her with excitement. Usually her excitement turns into disappointment in the wake of the actual meeting but she doesn’t let that discourage her. She is quite a positive person at heart.

 

From the corner of her eye she can make out Pansy Parkinson making her way to the dungeons, perhaps. A thought pops into her mind. Both names start with P. She shakes her head to clear her head out.

 

It just couldn’t be, right?

 

She walks in the opposite direction from where Parkinson is going. She’s got one more class today.

 

It drags on. The class, the day on the whole. She doesn’t like how much she’s staring to wait for her mystery meeting. It’s embarrassing. When her friends note on her constant fidgeting they giggle and shove each other around playfully (“look at her, gosh!”) just like a group of girls would and she manages a tight smile.

 

It’s a relief to sneak out of the bedchambers. It’s like she’s putting an end to this foolishness her life has been lately.

 

Cho climbs the stairs to the Astronomy tower soundlessly. She has learned by now the tricks to sneaking out her bedroom without anyone noticing.

 

She opens the door and it gives an ugly moan of protest. Cho freezes in her tracks. Nothing. Inside the room there is circle of candles set on the floor to lighten the room up, romantic, soft glow that melts the sharp shadows. In the middle of the circle there stands a boy from Hufflepuff. A hopeless romantic that he is, he is holding a single red rose in his hand, smiling brightly when he sees her. Cho smiles back, flattered.

 

She can’t remember his name for the death of her. Think, think, think, she chants in her head as he steps forward to pull her in an embrace, kissing her passionately. What if he asks her to scream his name for him or something just as corny? Oh, that’s going to leave a hickey, she then thinks, dismayed as he moves down to her neck.

 

He pulls away to start disrobing himself, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Well?” he demands.

 

Cho feels a bit annoyed by how he is trying to get things moving as quickly as possible. The façade of a gentle lover he’s trying to keep up is an insult to her. If he wants to fuck, let them fuck. He doesn’t have to play around, though of course he wouldn’t know that. He doesn’t know her. Suddenly, she hears a loud thump from the staircase.

 

“What was that?” she says, turning around with a swish of her skirt.

 

“Wait,” the boy says.

 

Cho opens the door cautiously. Her hands shake uncontrollably. Outside, sprawled on the steps is Parkinson. Cho inhales sharply.

 

“I tripped,” she croaks. “Go on. I’ll go away.”

 

“What?” says Cho, exasperated. “What are you doing here?”

 

Pansy raises her head to peer at her, her mouth hanging open in suprise. Cho doesn’t know who she was expecting but apparently it wasn’t her.

 

“You seem to ask that a lot, Chang,” she grumbles as she gets back on her feet. “There are only so many places where you get some quiet and peace. A girl has her needs, right?”

 

“What?” Cho says. She feels like she’s starting to resemble a broken record.

 

“Yes, Chang, as surprising as that may appear to you,” says Parkinson sarcastically. “But please, do get on with it. I can wait.”

 

Cho feels a hand land on her shoulder.

 

“Come on,” he says. Cho falters.

 

“But…”

 

“But what? Let’s go back, Chang, alright?” he says.

 

Cho stares at Parkinson. She smirks.

 

“Be my guest, Cho,” she says sweetly. Cho blushes. She turns around abruptly and stomps back inside the room. She hears her laughing outside, her laughter echoing of the stone walls.

 

“It’s like she’s everywhere,” Cho huffs.

 

“I don’t know about that but let’s hope all that damn noise didn’t alarm Filch. I’ve got things to do, places to be, Chang,” he mutters darkly. “I can’t afford to get detention.” Cho makes a face.

 

“We should get away from here before he comes, then,” she says.

 

Not surprisingly, Filch does catch them at the foot of the staircase. He has a firm hold on Parkinson’s arm who seems to be absolutely furious. He looks very pleased, especially when he drags them to Snape, who eyes them with disgust, his lip curling.

 

They’d had to congratulate themselves for getting off the hook with such a meager punishment, Snape tells them. Cho thanks her luck that they had Parkinson with them. Detention tomorrow afternoon for two hours is nothing in comparison with what Snape had assigned some more unfortunate students. The boy whose name Cho still doesn’t remember sighs heavily next to her and she finds it all quite amusing. She does her best to stifle her laughter into the sleeve of her robe. She sees Parkinson watching her and she sticks her tongue out at her.

 

What are you looking at? she mouths. Parkinson just shakes her head and looks away. Her lips are pulling upwards.

 

After they have been handed their punishment they are escorted each to their respective sleeping quarters. As Cho slides underneath the covers she hears someone shuffling around in the darkness.

 

“Where’d you go?” Marietta whispers.

 

“It’s not important,” she whispers back. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

 

Marietta doesn’t answer. Cho yawns and rolls on to her side. Suit yourself, she thinks.

 

* * *

 

 

All of the girls thought it was plain hilarious that she had been caught with a boy at night. They giggle and scream excitedly and Cho finds herself laughing along. She feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. She’s doing better now, isn’t she? She wouldn’t be laughing if she wasn’t.

 

“Imagine if he had walked in on you!” one of them says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

 

“Yeah, it would’ve been a bloody blast,” Marietta says. Her voice is flat and she looks angry. Cho frowns.

 

“What’s got into you?” she asks.

 

“Oh, nothing. Just nothing. Forget about it,” she says. Cho shrugs.

 

The rest of the day proceeded as usual until the final class of the day ended. She hurries down to the dungeons. Merlin knows what would happen if she was late.

 

Everyone else is already there, seated and with a pile of papers placed in front of them on the desk.

 

“Lovely of you to show up, Miss Chang,” Snape drawls and motions at one of the desk for her to sit down. When all of them have secured a place, he fixes a strict look at the three of them.

 

“Today, I’ve decided that you are to grade these papers in order to teach you,” Snape pauses dramatically, “the importance of being responsible for one’s actions. Naturally, I will ensure that your work has been… acceptable.” He sneers. “You may begin.”

 

Cho flips through the papers, reading a few lines from here and there. It’s difficult to concentrate, since the boy (his name is Seth Peterson) was huffing and sighing and generally making noises next to her. He clicks his tongue and taps the desk with his fingernails. Just seeing him makes her feel uneasy.

 

“Would you stop squirming?” Parkinson whispers loudly over Cho’s desk, echoing Cho’s thoughts. Cho’s seated right in between them. Seth turns to glare at her.

 

“It’s your fault that we’re here to begin with,” he mutters. “So shut up.”

 

“My fault?” Parkinson says, indignant.

 

“Yes!” Seth hisses. “Obviously.”

 

“Tell him that it’s not my fault, Chang,” Parkinson demands. She looks at Cho, her brow furrowed.

 

“Why should I tell him that?” Cho asks, indifferent. “You were the one to stumble. And you laughed pretty loudly too.”

 

Parkinson sputters. “I can’t believe you would betray me over a man like that,” she says darkly. Seth looks very smug. Cho shakes her head. Unbelievable, she thinks.

 

“I don’t get what you see in him anyway,” she says airily.

 

“Uh huh,” says Cho.

“I think it’s quite cold of him to call you by last name,” she continues.

 

“What would you know about that?” Cho asks absently.

 

Parkinson leans close to her conspiratorially, her hand placed on Cho’s thigh for support.

 

“I know a lot and I know you deserve better,” she says. Cho stares at the hand. Parkinson follows her gaze and shrugs. Then she continues: “He’s one scrawny little boy, isn’t he?”

 

“I can hear you,” says Seth.

 

“See? He doesn’t have any balls to defend himself,” Parkinson says. Cho might have smiled at that. Parkinson is warm and soft against her, the grip on her thigh firm. Her breath tickles Cho’s neck and she shifts unconsciously.

 

“Parkinson,” Cho says, her voice shaky. “Personal space.”

 

Parkinson looks at her blankly, uncomprehending. Then her eyes widen and she pulls away hurriedly.

 

“Oh. Oh! Sorry,” she says, flustered. Cho closes her eyes.

 

“It’s fine,” she says. The excited flutter won’t quiet down in the pit of her stomach.

 

The rest of the detention is rather uneventful. They sigh and grumble but they grade the papers at the end of the day. Snape eyes the piles suspiciously but lets them go without a complaint. Cho heads to the Great hall. Her stomach has been grumbling for the last thirty minutes or so. She is starving.

 

When she parts ways with Parkinson, Seth having disappeared already, she pats Cho’s back lightly.

 

“See you around,” she says, a lopsided smile on her lips. Cho stands there looking at her departing back in confusion. It takes her a moment to collect herself.

 

* * *

 

She sees her in the audience, wrapped in a huge scarf and waving her hands about frantically during her quidditch match and joy bubbles right below the surface. It’s silly, she knows, it’s a Slytherin-Ravenclaw game, of course she would be there. Rationalising doesn’t weaken the feeling though. She might’ve played a bit more seriously than she usually would.

 

Of course there are other things in her life. She’ll be ending school soon. She thinks about it a lot, what to do afterwards. The field is opening up before them, the poor 8th year students. They all are somehow more confused by the fact that life will go on. What happened ruined the sense of continuity. Now it’s starting to dawn on them, harshly.

 

She spends time with her friends, buries her nose in books, helps others to study, does all the usual things a normal, outgoing girl who wants to do well would do in her spare time. Yet a new neat box in her life is forming and on top of that box is scribbled a name that is of one certain Pansy Parkinson’s.

 

Surely they’re not friends. That would be mad. They’re just… something. Hence, she has her own special place in Cho’s life. Somehow it starts to feel natural to pull her by the sleeve and ask if she wanted to hang out. She’d smoke and Cho would sit there with her and it would all be quite nice indeed.

 

She can’t quite put her finger on it but something changes after that, getting friendly with her. She seems to notice her more easily from the crowd. Sometimes she realises she’s been thinking about her, for example wondering how she is or whether she had got into trouble, considering all the rules she broke just for the hell of it.

 

It’s weird. She’s weird. She wants to talk to her. More than ever.

 

Unfortunately, the universe is against her. There simply isn’t time for her to focus on anything else but school and quidditch. She’s up to her neck with work.

 

As the Valentine’s Day drew closer the feverish buzzling in the school got worse. There’d be a party, they told her. A great party. Everyone would be there.

 

“Everyone?” asks Cho.

 

She gets a nod for answer. Cho tunes off the conversation going on around her and lets herself get lost in her thoughts.

 

Everyone, huh. You don’t say.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t have to wait until the party to see her.

 

She’s late from class and she’s running, huffing inelegantly, when she bumps into someone.

 

“Sorry- oh!” she says.

 

“Hi,” says Parkinson.

 

“Hi!” says Cho, much too excited for her liking. “I mean. Hi.”

 

Parkinson just stares at her.

 

“I’m in a hurry,” she says lamely.

 

“Oh?” says Parkinson.

 

“Yeah,” says Cho.

 

“Shouldn’t you go then?” Parkinson says and she smiles in a way that makes Cho feel warm and pleasant inside. Cho brushes a lock of hair behind her ear shakily.

 

“Yeah, but I kind of needed to talk to you. Or I wanted to. I want to talk to you, okay?” Cho babbles.

 

“Well,” Parkinson says. “Here I am.”

 

“Are you going to the party on Valentine’s Day?”

 

“Sure,” Parkinson says. She frowns. “Why?”

 

“No reason,” says Cho quickly. “I was just wondering.”

 

“Right… And you? Are you coming?” Parkinson asks slowly.

 

“Yes,” Cho breathes. “So… See you there? Or something.”

 

She doesn’t stay long enough to hear Parkinson’s response. She thinks she has embarrassed herself well enough.

 

When she arrives in front of the classroom the door has already been closed. She can hear the Professor’s monotonous voice all the way to the corridor. She straightens the helm of her skirt self-consciously, clears her throat and gives three sharp knocks on the door.

 

Because she usually is punctual she gets away with a mere warning. Cho sighs in relief. She seats herself and rummages around her school bag for her text book, parchment and quill. She has trouble concentrating throughout the lesson. She bites the end of her quill and thinks something along these lines over and over: I’m a huge idiot, I wish this class would end, I’m so excited.

 

* * *

 

The lights are set low and there is smoke and laughter and music. People dance, some wrapped in each other’s arms and others jumping around wildly, there’s a flock of people just sitting around and talking and people have drinks in their hands and it’s fantastic.

 

It’s amazing. She’s got make up on for once and she’s wearing a cute outfit and when she finds Parkinson her heartrate goes up so fast she almost swoons. She leans close to her and they laugh and drink. She asks her to dance and she says yes. They squeeze their way between the bodies shaking on the floor, couples tangled in each other and Parkinson takes her hand in hers so they won’t get separated. She smiles so hard her face aches and she must look daft but it’s just as well since she is quite daft indeed, with her at least.

 

The way she dances is intriguing and Cho can’t stop staring. She brings her hands into her hair, she moves her hips in wide circles. If she’d had to describe it in one word she would’ve picked sultry. She herself doesn’t feel comfortable with putting up a show like that so she loosens up and tries to forget where she is, let the music take rein of her and lead her wherever it wants her to go. Parkinson puts her hands on her shoulders and they’re a lot closer, skin to skin and Cho can see her eyes glimmering. Her lips are shiny and wet, she must be wearing lip gloss. Cho’s hands climb up her sides, caressing. Her cheeks are aflame and she laughs.

 

After a while Parkinson grabs her by the hand and yells over the blare of music: “Let’s go get some fresh air,” and she complies because she thinks it’s getting quite hot in there indeed. They walk out of the area to the corridor and Cho gulps down the drink she grabbed from the table as they passed by and shoves it into the hands of someone she doesn’t have time to recognise.

 

It’s dead silent in there. The room the party is in has been made sound proof with spells. Cho would like to ask how exactly they managed to pull that off. She follows Parkinson as she leads her towards a window.

 

“No bother getting out when it’s enough if we just open a window,” she explains.

 

“And you think any of these windows open?” Cho asked, not convinced. She just smiles.

 

“Just trust me,” she says. She fumbles about for her wand and mutters a spell. The glass of the window disappears and a cold breeze brushes past them.

 

“It’s just this window I think,” she says. “It’s the kind of thing that someone knows and they tell it to someone else and eventually you end up hearing it too. And no one else hasn’t the foggiest.”

 

“Interesting,” says Cho. After a while she sighs dreamily, closing her eyes. “Merlin, that feels good.”

 

“You have to teach me that spell,” she continues. Parkinson snorts.

 

“As if you didn’t know it before,” she says.

 

“I don’t,” Cho says matter-of-factly.

 

“Oh. I see,” says Parkinson. She is silent for a moment. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

 

“I am,” Cho said. “I still don’t know every single thing, though.”

 

“That’s fine. That’s cool,” she says hurriedly. Cho bites back a grin. Parkinson exhales deeply. “I’ll teach you some day.”

 

“Great.” She smiles brightly at Parkinson. “I appreciate it.”

 

Parkinson rubs the back of her neck and smiles back at her.

 

After a while Cho starts to get chilly. Seeing her shiver Parkinson cocks her head.

 

“Getting cold in there?” she drawls.

 

“Sort of,” Cho says. She shrugs, as if she couldn’t care less.

 

“Uh huh,” says Parkinson and flicks her wrist paired with a litany of muttered words and the window glass returns to its place.

 

“Do you want to go back now?” Cho asks. She supposes it is the natural following event. A bit of something magical, then back into everyday life. Her fingernails bite into the flesh of her palms.

 

“Not particularly. You?”

 

Cho shakes her head. Inside her mind a fanfare is going off, bells tolling, lights shining, all that. An excited whine escapes her lips and she looks away quickly.

 

They walk around for a while, they don’t talk much. They don’t have to. After a while Parkinson opens a door to a room, a storage of sorts, and quirks her eyebrows in a question. Cho nods and they get inside, sitting down and leaning against the wall. It’s not too big but not particularly small either. It’s quite cosy, in fact.

 

Their thighs brush lightly against each other, Cho’s skirt rises a bit and she can feel the warmness of her skin against hers.

 

Parkinson lowers her face on the crook of Cho’s neck. Cho stiffens.

 

“Parkinson?” she squeals, alarmed.

 

“Mm. Call me by my first name, by the way,” Pansy says drowsily.

 

“Oh. Okay. Um. What are you doing?”

 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Pansy mumbles. She rubs her nose against her collar bone and Cho whimpers inadvertently.

 

“No, I should think,” Cho manages to say.

 

“Then let’s stay like this,” she whispers. Her hand comes to rest on the small of Cho’s back. She tries her best to relax but all of her nerves are alert, her heart thumping wildly. She breathes shakily. Pansy is making circles on her back and whispering something comforting against her skin. Little by little the tension leaves Cho and she brings her hand to rest on Pansy’s shoulders.

 

When Pansy lifts her head she is so close it is dizzying. Cho stares down at her, Pansy’s nose bumps into her cheek as she tries to readjust herself.

 

“Oops,” she says and laughs.

 

“It’s okay,” Cho whispers, she’s laughing too. She’s a bit tipsy and she can’t think straight when she is so close to her, she can smell her perfume, it’s feminine and deep, it’s tantalising. Her gaze shifts back and forth from her eyes to her lips.

 

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asks, holding her breath.

 

“Maybe,” Pansy says before she presses her lips hesitantly onto Cho’s but when she doesn’t protest she applies more pressure. Cho’s eyelids flutter close. She kisses her back, first softly and then a bit harder. They fumble around each other, Pansy’s hand cupping her face and Cho’s on her waist.

 

She pushes her back on the floor and kisses her more roughly, more thoroughly and Cho moans into the kiss. Pansy’s weight on her makes her feel so small and weak but very safe and she lets it happen, she crawls on her and pulls her top off and reaches underneath, clicking the hook of her bra open. She licks at the exposed skin, lavishing it with tender kisses, she bites and sucks everywhere she can. Cho twists underneath her, her hands clasp at Pansy’s back.

 

Pansy lowers herself to kiss her. Cho responds desperately. In her excitement their noses bump and she bites Pansy’s lip but she just laughs lowly.

 

Pansy scoots backwards and pulls her legs wide, her skirt rises and gathers onto her stomach. She places two of her fingers against her cunt and rubs her through the cloth.

 

“Careful there, you’ll soak through your panties soon,” Pansy teases. Cho whines, she lifts her hips in hope of getting more of her touch but Pansy takes her hand away.

 

“Let’s get these off you, shall we?” Pansy murmurs. She pulls them off swiftly and presses her fingers back against Cho. She strokes slowly, presses one finger inside and Cho pants.

 

“More?” she moans. She didn’t mean it to come out as a question and she her cheeks turn bright red. Pansy smiles down at her.

 

“You’re adorable,” she says as she increases the pace. “And so wet.” She slips two fingers inside, deep, exploring and pulls them off just to push them inside again. She fucks her with her fingers, she spreads her wider and Cho moans, her back arching off the floor.

 

“You like it, don’t you? Does it feel good?” Pansy asks quietly, her voice laced with lust. Cho’s mouth is open, she breathes hard, saliva pools in her mouth. Her whole body is taunt and she shivers, she can barely handle it, her skirt is crumpled and sweaty against their bodies. She comes with a shudder, throwing her head back, Pansy’s fingers still thrusting into her relentlessly.

 

Pansy gets off her. Cho gets on all fours and crawls close to her and she gives her a deep kiss. She has her tongue in her mouth and her hands pull at Pansy’s clothes, she fondles her arse and thighs.

 

“Sit on my face,” she whispers against Pansy’s lips.

 

“Woah,” Pansy breathes out. “Isn’t that a bit..?”

 

“Just do it, will you?” Cho says, smiling. She strips Pansy of her shirt and bra as fast as she can and leans in to capture her nipple in her mouth, sucking at it lovingly. Pansy inhales sharply and she tangled her hands in Cho’s hair.

 

“Okay, okay,” she gasps as Cho pulls away, smiling victoriously. Cho gets back on her back as Pansy pulls off the remaining clothes. Pansy then positions her lower body above Cho’s face.

 

“Um, have you done this before?” Pansy asks nervously.

 

“Not with a girl,” Cho says, looking up at her from underneath her lashes. “Just let me do it, okay?”

 

Pansy nods. She lowers herself until Cho can reach her. Her tongue slithers out, she presses it against her, slow and gentle lick throughout the length of her vulva, she makes patterns on her cunt, she spits on her. Pansy twists her body, she moans shamelessly. Cho squeezes her arse hard and Pansy presses down against her mouth, her thighs shaking.

 

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps as she comes. She stays there for a while, breathing hard and then sits next to Cho. She stares into space.

 

“That was quite nice,” says Cho.

 

“More than nice,” Pansy corrects. She looks down at Cho. “I wasn’t sure you’d swing my way.”

 

“I never knew I was a lesbian,” Cho admits sheepishly.

 

“You don’t have to be a lesbian to have sex with a girl,” Pansy says. “Not that it matters much.”

 

Cho hums. “Anyway, I didn’t know I was into girls.”

 

“Well,” Pansy says. “Now you know.”

 

A quick cleaning spell later they stuff their clothes back on.

 

“Do you want to sneak back?” Cho asks quietly. She holds Pansy’s hand in hers, squeezing it lightly.

 

Pansy starts to answer but it turns into a massive yawn and Cho laughs softly. “Sleep?” she suggests.

 

“Sure,” Cho says.

 

They walk hand in hand until they have to part ways. Cho lets go of her hand, disappointed. She takes a few steps and then looks back at her. Pansy hasn’t budged.

 

“Is this just for this once or…?” Cho asks. Pansy shrugs.

 

“We can fuck if you want. We can do something else if you want. I’m okay with it all,” Pansy says.

 

Cho tilts her head. “Sounds good,” she says and walks away.

\--

They meet and get in the cupboard, Pansy ties her up and gags her with her panties, she spurts lube on her fingers from a tube and pushes them in her arsehole and then she uses a dildo, thrusting into her repeatedly until Cho almost faints, drool dripping down her chin onto her chest. She in turn presses Pansy against the wall, spits in her mouth and eats her out on her knees. After that Cho has to leave for her quidditch practice. She appears a bit ruffled but no one says a thing.

 

Cho sits on Pansy’s face as Pansy claws at Cho’s thighs deep red marks and after she comes Cho eats Pansy’s arse. They kiss, sucking at each other and biting and pushing tongues against each other hungrily until their lips are swollen and hurt and they can’t continue anymore.

 

In the period of two months they manage to have sex in almost every wing of Hogwarts. It’s not sex every time though, they might just sit and talk if other one isn’t up to it that day or if they have only a limited period of time in their disposal.

 

Yet Cho wouldn’t call her a friend. Not even a girlfriend. She doesn’t know how to describe their relationship other than saying that sometimes they have sex and sometimes they don’t. Also, she really likes to cuddle with her. Pansy, however, isn’t a fan. Cho can be very charming and she is extremely skilled in getting what she wants, which means that they end up cuddling quite often.

 

What they don’t have is confessions. They don’t have secrets. No heart to hearts. If they talk, it’s shallow. It’s great. It’s good. She’s so close but far enough. She doesn’t have to hold her back, she stays away voluntarily. Perhaps it’s because she doesn’t need her that much. Perhaps she has others. She twists a knife in her when she doesn’t beg for her like she does.

 

A broken voice in the back of her mind screams that she wants her to see her as a whole, take all of her, not just the scraps she leaves lying around. Her throat gets tight when she thinks about it so she tries to ignore it.

 

 _Hurt me_ , she pleads in her heart. _Wound me. I can’t feel you unless you dig into me._ Everyone always hurt her but it she does it so well she doesn’t mind at all, she’ll over her head on a plate if she just looks at her and sees her.


	2. Chapter 2

Pansy has been told she’s mean, and petty, and vain, and some much worse things too, those she wouldn’t acknowledge. Even when she tried not to be like that she got treated like a bitch. Maybe she was too late to notice that she didn’t want to be that kind of a person. Maybe she changed for all the wrong reasons.

 

She had to be extra nice to get the same amount of respect than, say, Blaise had to. Whether she succeeded or not, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she didn’t get as many glares as she used to. Maybe she was just getting better at ignoring everything and everyone. She was bitter about it, it being easier for the boys, though she didn’t say anything. Of course she didn’t. There were few friends left and she’d rather keep them.

 

In some ways it was humiliating. In others, well, plain heartbreaking. Embarrassing. She’d press the tip of her wand against the swollen lids of her eyes and whisper the spell to make the evidence of crying fade away. Something that came in hand when you were a girl of eighteen, pride and beauty being the only things you could rely on.

 

No one could tell her she was a mess. No one could make fun of her because she was slipping. She wouldn’t let them.

 

Anyway.

 

Pansy Parkinson was surviving. She was living. Not thriving, mind you, but she was going forward all the same. Go to class, don’t be rude. Don’t be late. Don’t stare. Look aloof, don’t rise up to bait.

 

Millicent said she was just a coward.

 

“You make me sick,” she had said then, spitting on Pansy’s shoes and sneering at her. Pansy had slapped her hard and stomped away. She had run after her though, pulled her by the hair on the floor and it had turned into a messy cat fight.

 

So maybe she had ruined another friendship but it wasn’t like she couldn’t make it up to her later. She knew it was alright. That’s what she liked to think, that she wasn’t childish enough to cut her off completely.

 

Younger girls, she found, didn’t really get it. They were all so wrapped up in their perfect, peaceful lives that they didn’t have an ounce of sympathy for her. Sure, there obviously were many that had been involved in the horrors of the war. Not so many that had committed something akin to a crime, like she had.

 

It was fine, though. She’d hang on Draco’s arm and whine and bitch and then listened to him doing pretty much the same to her. Getting things off her chest had never felt better.

 

However, she wanted to have something of her own. She didn’t want to get stuck, glued to his side because she was too afraid to cross the bridge to the other side. A better place was waiting somewhere there, surely. If only she had courage. He was going to leave at some point. She wasn’t going to be left behind.

 

It wasn’t long after she decided that that she ran into Cho and got to know her. Love her, too. Her first step to autonomy didn’t happen the way she expected it to but she was glad it had turned out that way. She is very happy to hold her close to her chest, feel her scuttle closer in her arms, hold her elegant hand in hers. She’d rub her hand with her thumb lightly, so softly, trying to show her how swollen out of proportion her heart is in her chest, beating away wildly when she’s touching her.

 

Her face hurts of smiling too hard.

 

She’s taking her to her room in the evening, her robes willowing around her toned thighs, they’re almost running down the corridor.

 

“What’s this about?” Pansy asks dreamily. To be honest she’s just glad to see a glimpse of her bare calves peeking out as she strides forward. Nothing could be more important, right?

 

“It’s a surprise,” Cho says. She sounds nervous.

 

“A surprise,” she echoes. No explanation is given.

 

When she looks away from Cho’s back she can see other students, doing whatever people usually do, hurrying to and fro. It makes her wonder. Some of them stare at them, openly curious. Some of them only have eyes for each other. Which group does she prefer?

 

She doesn’t think she minds being called a dyke, as long as they don’t do it to her face. Yet she feels a mild anger bubbling under the surface, seeing someone make a face as they pass by. She knows Cho doesn't notice it but she does. She can't help but notice it.

 

It’s not fair. She can’t do a thing. It’s just not fair. So she pushes it away from her consciousness. Of course she has her doubts but it’s going to be okay. The warmness of Cho’s presence calms her down.

 

 _She’s fine with me_ , she realises suddenly. Oh my.

 

Finally, they get to the Ravenclaw common room. Cho pushes her into her bedroom quickly, away from the sidelong glances. In this room it’s just the two of them. Just for a while but it’s more than enough.

 

“Hi,” says Cho, somehow bashful and Pansy starts giggling hysterically. Cho raises an eyebrow.

 

“Hi yourself,” she says, wiping her tears. “I’m just very happy.”

 

“You should be, since you’re in my company,” Cho says airily. Her lip is quirking upwards tellingly in amusement.

 

“Wasn’t I supposed to be the conceited one?” she says playfully, poking Cho’s cheek lightly. She laughs, covering her mouth and Pansy grabs her wrist demandingly but gently. She pulls it aside, away from her mouth, her eyes going down to her lips, then meeting her eyes. Cho is tilting her head to the side, looking very confused and utterly adorable. Pansy pulls her in a kiss.

 

Flush against each other, she holds her by the shoulders lightly as they kiss. When Pansy pulls away she notices that Cho’s eyes flutter open, looking quite irritable for a split second.

 

“So, what’s the surprise?” she asks, out of breath.

 

“Oh!” says Cho. “Right.”

 

As Cho searches around her trunk Pansy takes a seat on her bed. It’s a blue room, obviously. Pretty much like hers in the dungeons but the feeling is different. She gets a feeling that there’s something more to it, to this place, there must be something… mysterious. She can’t put her finger on it.

 

“Found it!” Cho exclaims. She turns around with a rose-coloured box in her hands. She sits down next to Pansy, her hair tickling her skin and that sweet vanilla scent of hers.

 

“Chocolate,” says Pansy cleverly.

 

“I got it from Hogsmeade some time and thought I’d save it for a special occasion,” she explains, her cheeks flushing lightly. She moves to fiddle with her hair. Pansy feels lightheaded.

 

Cho open the box, fishes a one heart-shaped sweet on her fingers and turns towards Pansy. She’s frowning a little (as if it’s an extremely challenging task, which she finds sort of cute) as she offers the sweet to her. Pansy opens her mouth obligingly and Cho puts it inside her mouth, her fingers brushing against her lips. Now Pansy feels a bit hot too.

 

It’s dark chocolate with a strawberry filling. It melts in her mouth, leaving her tongue feeling dry and she wishes they could kiss some more. However, she opts to feed Cho a piece of chocolate instead.

 

“It’s really good, isn’t it?” she murmurs and Cho nods.

 

They go on like that, one by one emptying the box. They’re not touching each other per se, no kissing, no caressing, but it feels incredibly intimate. Her side pressed against hers. Fingers in her mouth, her saliva in her fingers. Strawberry filling on top of her tongue feels obscene.

 

Later, as she is leaving Cho stops her and says, “Please don’t go,” and she looks so very lonely that she stays. It does help that she really wants to but mostly it’s for her sake. She pulls off her robes and skirt, sleeping in her top and panties curled next to her, under the blankets. Cho has ice cold toes, so she tangles her feet in hers.

 

She lies there in sleeplessness and listens to Cho whining and murmuring something incomprehensible. She doesn’t look her way. At some point she must have fallen asleep, she doesn’t remember anything but blackest blackness before she jolts awake. Cho is already up.

 

She’s brushing her hair and she smiles when she sees Pansy clambering up from the bed. She meant to say Good morning but it gets stuck in her throat for some reason.

 

“Hurry up, we’re already kind of late,” Cho says calmly, not paying any attention to her silence. Normally. Like it’s a every day thing.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ve been in a good mood lately,” Marietta says to her one day. Cho looks up from her book. They’re sitting in the library, supposedly studying for the tests coming up soon.

 

“I have?” she says.

 

Marietta nods. “Is something up?”

 

Cho tilts her head thoughtfully. “Hmm, not really.”

 

“Are you sure?” she asks, sounding doubtful.

 

“Well, I guess it’s been rough but now that things are easing up a bit I’m not so stressed anymore,” Cho says carefully. Marietta studies her from the corner of her eye.

 

“So there’s nothing you’re hiding from me?” she asks, focusing on her text book. She looks sullen.

 

“Of course not,” Cho says.

 

“Good,” she says. Cho smiles weakly.

 

She knows she can’t avoid it forever but she’d just rather not tell right now. Or any time soon, frankly. She doesn’t know where to start from. Besides, it’s not really her business what she does or who she spends time with in the first place.

 

“And there’s no chance that it would have something to do with the fact that you’re talking with Pansy Parkinson out of all people?” Marietta continues after a beat, casually. Cho sputters.

 

“No!” she croaks and clears her throat. “I mean, no,” she repeats. She shifts self-consciously, head reeling. Marietta looks up. Her eyes accuse her.

 

“Liar,” she says. Cho’s jaw drops.

 

“I’ve seen you,” she says knowingly.

 

“Yeah? And what is that to you?” Cho says, challenging her. Marietta slams her book shut.

 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe she just was a Death eater scum!” she screams.

 

Cho flinches, feeling uncomfortable under the staring of the outsiders. Marietta doesn’t pay any attention to them, she just plunges on with her rant: “I don’t understand what’s got into you, why you’re like that, why you won’t talk to us,“ she pauses to sob, “I don’t get it, Cho. Tell me!”

 

Cho looks away. Her mouth is in a tight line.

 

“You wouldn’t get it.”

 

“Of course I wouldn’t when you don’t explain it to me,” Marietta says. “You won’t even try, Cho.”

 

“It’s just, she’s changed,” Cho says. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Marietta.”

 

“Well, at least not that!” Marietta sneers.

 

Cho stares at her sobbing friend and in her heart there is a gaping hole. She gathers her books apathetically.

 

“Where do you think you are going?” she asks. “We’re not done.”

 

“Away,” says Cho.

 

“What? Why? Away where?” There are at least three questions too many in that sentence for her taste and Cho winces.

 

“I have to think,” says Cho. She hurries out of the library before she can protest.

 

It’s not that she’s ashamed. It’s not that she wants to hide her from everyone. It’s not that she doesn’t want to things to be as they used to be, not have to feel like an outsider with those she for so long shared a special bond. It’s just that, she have never been very brave, not when confronted head on like this. It makes her cry. It makes her make stupid things, to lose her grip. Pathetic.

 

As soon as she finds a quiet place she sits down, thinking about Marietta’s words, her face, her voice. How angry and disappointed she was at her. She feels angry now. She has been betrayed too, hasn’t she?

 

* * *

 

 

She avoids everyone but Pansy. She’s excellent at it, no one ever catches her unless she wants them to. She doesn’t care anymore, she doesn’t hide it, she walks straight to Pansy and whispers into her ear. Together they’ll find a place.

 

Marietta doesn’t approach her anymore after having been rejected a couple of times. She looks more furious than sad now. The others haven’t talked to her either. They’re fighting, but not really. It’s as if she stopped existing for them and they for her. Cho tries not to feel disappointed.

 

When they’re alone, with Pansy, her wide hips and plump thighs, she drops on her knees and pleads for her to teach her how to be good. Pansy pulls her by the hair, she presses her back against the wall and ravishes her mouth with harsh kisses. She bites her breasts, her neck, her legs while fingering her. She leaves red marks and black bruises on her and she loves it so much she could die. She gets down on the floor, rolls on her back, pushes her tongue out, look at me, have me, her legs are spread, she is open wide and ready for her.

 

Pansy has learned a fun little spell, a one to make her hole contract or widen at will. Cho is on all fours and Pansy aims at her anus and her poor little trembles and whines and asks for more until she can’t take it anymore. She comes and slumps on the floor in a puddle of weakened limbs.

 

Pansy towers over her. She pets her hair gently.

 

“I’m worried about you, Cho,” she says.

 

“No, you’re not,” Cho says.

 

“I am.”

 

“Why?”

 

Pansy doesn’t answer. Cho gets up, reaches for her wand but Pansy grabs her wrist.

 

“Let me,” she says quietly and sits down, pulls Cho’s back against her chest and heals her bruises, those bites that she gave her just a second ago. Cho’s heart is a big lukewarm lump and she starts to cry.

 

Despite all those times she swore she’d never let her see her like this. Her large hands wrapped around her, so warm, so peaceful, her haven. She sniffles and wipes at her tears. Pansy smiles at her.

 

When she has pulled herself together she shrugs Pansy’s hands off her and picks up her clothes from the floor. Pansy has already performed the cleaning spell so she merely dresses in silence as Pansy follows her with her gaze.

 

“We can talk,” she says suddenly.

 

“Maybe later,” Cho says. “I have to go.”

 

“Okay,” says Pansy. She’s still sitting there, naked and bare and open, so much different from her. It makes her eyes water again.

 

She scuttles out of the room and runs all the way to the dormitory. She lies in her bed and counts from one to hundred before she goes to brush her teeth and goes to bed. She wants to fall asleep and just dream. Forget about it here, be unconscious. Try hard as she might, she stays awake for a long, long time. Bodies shifting and shuffling in the shadows, it’s humid and hot, her mind reels, her mouth is dry and she can’t sleep.

 

\--

 

“Pass me the root,” Cho orders.

 

“Right,” Pansy mutters, her brow furrowed in concentration.

 

“That’s not the root,” Cho says. “It doesn’t even distinctly resemble it.” She turns to stare at Pansy. “How did you ever pass this class?”

 

Pansy shrugs and Cho sighs in despair. She has been tutoring her for a while now but she hasn’t improved much. She has certain areas in which she shines, like History of Magic, but other things, like Herbology, she is pants at.

 

She feels a light breeze against her cheek and she turns back to Pansy. She has crawled right next to her, blowing at her, her plump lips in a seductive smile. She jerks upright. Pansy gives her a look that says I know you like it and Cho rolls her eyes.

 

“You’ve got to study and you know it,” Cho says. She doesn’t quite manage to sound cross though she meant to.

 

“We can study… some other things,” Pansy suggests, brushing the back of her palms gently against Cho’s cheek. She cups her face and turns Cho towards her. Cho tries to glare but it turns into a smile.

 

“Alright,” she laughs and leans in to kiss her. “But we have to be quick.”

 

“That has never been a problem with you,” Pansy says smugly and Cho colours slightly.

 

“Shut it,” she says. Pansy smirks and slides her hand up Cho’s thigh, underneath her skirt and pushes her hand into her panties carefully. She fingers her, slow and nice, and they kiss. Cho makes small, muffled noises against Pansy’s lips which encourage her to increase the pace. She rocks her hips against Pansy’s fingers as she comes, her lips slick and red.

 

“Gosh,” Cho says. “I’m a bloody mess.”

 

“And don’t I just love it,” Pansy says, kissing her cheek. Cho rolls her eyes.

 

“Go wash your hands,” she commands.

 

Unfortunately, these moments of happiness can’t go on forever. Eventually it’s time to eat. Eventually it’s time to sleep. Eventually she won’t be there.

 

“Shall we go?” Pansy suggests. She gives a huge yawn, and they laugh and Cho makes fun of her and she retorts something and they laugh again. It’s effortless and it’s their secret. Cho grabs her by the sleeve, holding onto it like a small child, staring into her eyes and thinking I’m so glad you’re here. Pansy blushes lightly, a shy smile on her lips.

 

They never hold hands. It hurts that they can’t do such a simple thing. Their bodies have touched, they have done everything, everything, but she can’t be pure with her. They’re only two dirty little freaks when they’re together, in the eyes of others.

 

She sees Marietta staring at them from afar and she smiles victoriously. She leans a bit into Pansy, which she is nothing but happy about, and they leave her gaping behind them. It’s interesting to her, how half of the people in the room have no idea they’re fucking, yet one silly bird knows it from the smallest signs possible. She could just look at Pansy a certain way and Marietta would flush bright red with anger or perhaps embarrassment, it’s no business of Cho’s.

 

It’s a little sad, too, but she doesn’t think about that.

 

She’s about to go into her own common room when she suddenly halts. “Wait,” Cho says quietly.

 

Pansy stops. She gives her an inquiring, warm look. Cho shakes her head. The thought of going to bed alone, being buried under the blankets heavy like a stone when she wakes up, having no one to talk with all day long but her, only her… There might’ve just as well been a cold black pitch instead of her bed. She looks down.

 

“Maybe you could sleep with me tonight,” she blurts out. Pansy’s body jerks and Cho winces despite herself. She prays she hasn’t crossed a line with her. They are intimate, sure, but never has it been quite like this between them.

 

“I could,” Pansy says hesitantly. She bites her lower lip. “Is it a good idea, though?”

 

“What could be bad about it?” Cho says snappishly. She regrets it immediately. She should drown in misery if she left her at that moment. However, she merely shrugs.

 

“Okay then,” she says. “Lead the way.”

 

Undressing, intimately in a wholly different way. Seeing her as she is, not with the intent to soil her and be soiled by her. Cho puts on her pyjamas, a large grey dress with long sleeves, it looked a little like something an old lady might wear, and she lends her a similar one, baby blue. Cho feels embarrassed and shy, and it makes her frustrated.

 

_What are you afraid of?_

 

Nothing, nothing with you, she thinks, it’s blurry and distant and she forgets all about it as she sits down on the bed. She combs her hair and studies Pansy who is looking around her curiously.

 

“Where the others are?” she asks. “Doesn’t, um, me being here bother them.

 

“They’ll be coming soon,” Cho says. Pansy gives her a look. _Really? Is that it?_ She shrugs.

 

“I don’t really care if it’s okay or not,” she continues. “Hurry up. Come here.”

 

She lifts the covers, crawling underneath and patting the mattress invitingly. Pansy hesitates a beat before climbing next to her. As they lay there, breaths mingling, Cho’s heart races and her whole body tenses. She watches her, dark eyelashes, ungraceful nose, thick eyebrows.

 

“The curtain,” she says after a long silence. Pansy pulls the curtains in and they’re left alone in their own cocoon.

 

She is too nervous to talk, so she just reaches for Pansy’s hand. Under the blanket, behind the covers, away from the scorning eyes of thousands and again thousands of hateful people, she and Pansy are not filthy, not shameful.

 

“Good night,” Pansy says, yawning. She gently prods at Cho to turn her back to her, pulls her to her chest like she is a stuffed animal, blowing a lock of her soft hair that is tickling her face aside. Cho sighs, taking the hand holding her onto her own and closes her eyes.

 

“Good night,” she whispers back.

 

* * *

 

 

She wakes up to the fuss the other girls make as they are getting ready for the day. Dressing, running back and forth between toilet and bedroom, snickering, gossiping. Cho feels sleepy and pleasant. She listens to these familiar noises. Pansy hasn’t woken up. The soft puffs of her breath, mumbling and sighing in sleep in her ear.

 

She feels awfully alone there. Those girls outside are out of her reach. The girl whose body lays next to her is somewhere in her dreams, a place she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know that much about Pansy. She hasn’t asked if she has brothers or sisters, what her favourite food is. More importantly, she doesn’t know what she thinks of her. If she should trust her.

 

Finally they leave the room, those other Ravenclaws. Cho rises from the bed, careful not to wake Pansy up. She changes into her uniform and sits down on the bed to brush her hair. She does this absently, automatically. Pansy stirs in the bed.

 

“Morning,” she says and yawns. She stretches her hands and whines, not wanting to get up, perhaps. Cho looks at her fondly.

 

“Good morning,” she says. “You should stay here and sleep a bit longer.”

 

Pansy rubs her eyes, pushing the blanket aside.

 

“I don’t think I can afford to skip any more lessons, isn’t that what you always say, Cho?” Pansy says but falls back on the bed obediently.

 

“It’s just this one time,” she says.

 

“Oh yeah?” Pansy says. “Getting soft on me?”

 

Her tone is playful, her eyes challenging her. Cho looks away, smiling.

 

“You’ll have to wait until everyone’s out of the corridors before you can sneak out, right? That’s why.”

 

“That’s my girl,” Pansy says, crawling next to her on her knees and kissing her cheek. “A Ravenclaw without a doubt.”

 

Cho turns to her, brushing their noses together. Her hand comes to rest on the nape of Pansy’s neck. She pulls her into a kiss, just a light peck on the lips.

 

“Brush your teeth,” Cho says, grinning and rises from the bed.

 

“Yes, sir,” Pansy answers gravely. Cho shakes her head before walking out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

So it continues. She starts to trust her more and understands that what they have now is something a lot bigger, more important. Pansy wants her to be safe and stable. She doesn’t want to see her playing around or hiding, she wants her to be honest. That is what she is telling her right now.

 

“It doesn’t really matter to me if we don’t come clean about this to everyone, it’s not that. I just don’t want to see you pretending they have a chance when we both know they don’t,” she says. She’s talking about those boys that flock around her, asking her out, giving her gifts, trying to chat her up.

 

“And how do you know that? What does it matter?” Cho challenges, hands crossed over her chest angrily. She knows she’s right but she can’t let her to be the one to pull all the strings in this… whatever. She has to have her say too, right?

 

Pansy slides her hands around her waist, holding her gently against her. Cho stiffens immediately, her heart beating away frantically.

 

“I just know. It matters because it’s about you. You matter to me, alright? So I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she says quietly. She doesn’t sound even a bit triumphant, only painfully honest and that’s what really gets to Cho. How can she be like that now when she used to be. _Well._ Cho stomps mentally on that train of thought. She’s left all that behind.

 

“How can you be so honest?” Cho mutters against Pansy’s shoulder instead. She grips the fabric of her robes, angry and helpless and relieved that she cares so deeply. So she hasn’t been silly and desperate and this all has a meaning.

 

“I’ve always been honest,” Pansy huffs. “I say what’s on my mind.”

 

Cho looks up. “Is that so?”

 

“Uhhuh.” She looks a bit sad. “I don’t think people notice it about me.”

 

Cho shrugs, embarrassed. “I have all the time to get to know you,” she says because she can’t think of anything else comforting to say.

 

Pansy hugs her tighter. For a moment Cho thinks of pushing her away. She is frozen with fear, thinking about how much she knows and how she could use it against her. She could disappear like all the others before her, leaving her all alone.

 

* * *

 

 

She starts glancing at her when she thinks Cho doesn’t notice. A worried look crossing over her features, a hand that presses into a fist. There’s something that bothers her and it bothers her in turn.

 

“Why’d you look so troubled?” she asks.

 

“You,” says Pansy, looking straight at her. Cho’s eyes widen. A coldness spreads throughout her insides, the cold of fear.

 

“Me? What do you mean?”

 

“You’re isolating yourself. Even when with me,” she says simply. Her face is blank, she looks neither sad nor angry nor disappointed. She’s just telling her how it is.

 

“That’s not true,” she says, her mouth dry, desperate to please her. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

 

Pansy looks away. Anger flares in Cho.

 

“What the fuck do you think you know about anything? You don’t own me!” she spits out.

 

Pansy looks hurt, and angry too. Cho starts to feel a bit more confident. That’s good. That’s how it should be.

 

“You’re right, I don’t. And I don’t know shit about you. You know why? Because you’re behind a wall, or something like that, always hiding and dodging when I try and make sense of it,” she says bitterly. “I don’t get why you have to be so difficult all the time.”

 

“Difficult?” Cho yells, indignant. “Don’t fuck with me! I’ve been perfectly good to you.”

 

Pansy huffs.

 

“Don’t give me that. You and I both know what I’m talking about,” Pansy says.

 

“No, I don’t! I don’t get it all,” Cho yells and starts to cry. _Stupid tears. Stupid Pansy. Stupid, stupid me._

 

Pansy takes a step forward, as if to comfort her but she stops, hand hanging in the air dumbly. She hesitates before pulling back. Cho continues to sob, hot tears welling endlessly.

 

“You can’t go on like this, Cho. Don’t make the same mistake that I did,” Pansy says, her voice quiet yet angry. She turns around and walks away. Cho slumps on the floor.

 

She’s lost it now.

 

* * *

 

 

Marietta sits next to her at class. Cho glances at her cautiously but she doesn’t seem to have come to pick a fight with her.

 

“We miss you,” she simply states. Cho opens her book and pretends to read.

 

“Cho, please,” Marietta says quietly.

 

Cho turns to her slowly. Marietta is biting her lower lip, her gaze wanders restlessly. She must’ve been awfully scared of this.

 

She considers insulting her, making her angry. However, she thinks of Pansy’s words. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Her hands tremble. She hides them.

 

“I just want you to understand that I don’t intend to stop being with her so I could get back on friendly terms with you guys,” Cho says, turning back to the book.

 

“I didn’t think you would,” Marietta says, indignant.

 

“Then what?” Cho snaps. She glares at Marietta.

 

“Look,” she says and sighs deeply. She pinches the bridge of her nose – a habit she’s seen hundreds of times – and looks her in the eye. “There’s something off with you. Don’t you dare deny it. We can all see you’re not okay. We’re worried, Cho.”

 

Cho’s throat gets uncomfortably dry and she has to cough. She wipes angrily at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She’s scared too, they both are.

 

“I want us to be friends,” Marietta says. Her hand comes to squeeze Cho’s shoulder. Cho avoids her eyes. She feels tired and limp.

 

She opens her mouth hesitantly. She doesn’t intend to say it before it comes out: “That’d be okay with me.”

 

“Are you sure?” Marietta asks carefully.

 

“Not really,” Cho says, her voice very small. “I can try, though.”

 

“That’s enough,” Marietta says. “I won’t ask about Parkinson.”

 

“Good,” Cho says. “Excellent.”

 

Marietta gets her books from her school bag and for a moment Cho feels like she is eleven again, she’s just made friends with this girl who knows an awful lot about a ton of things and the best thing is that she wants to be with her and finally there is someone who relates to what she feels and is interested in what she is interested in.

 

The class begins and it ends and they walk to the common room and the whole lot of them sit on the couches and no one asks her painfully awkward questions though they must be wondering and Cho still doesn’t feel trapped. She forgets about worrying. She realises she has missed her friends. She’s positively enjoying herself.

 

Maybe she isn’t as hopeless as she made herself out to be.

 

* * *

 

 

“I made up with Marietta,” Cho says. Pansy nods curtly. A silence falls between them.

 

She saw Pansy at the end of the corridor, back towards her, walking away. She ran behind her, yelling her to stop. Her cheeks are red with embarrassment. They’re in the open, everyone can see them and they’re staring at them intently, curious whispering and surprised faces. Cho presses her hand into a fists and plunges on before she can regret her choice.

 

She swallows audibly. “So, you know, I’m sorry. Pansy.”

 

Pansy studies her from head to toes. She nods again.

 

“Say something, damn it,” Cho says more angrily than she meant to. “I mean – um. Please?”

 

Pansy is obviously trying not to smile. “It’s fine,” she says. “Library?”

 

“Uh, okay,” Cho says. The group gathered around them has disappeared whilst they talked. Nothing interesting to them had happened. No cat fight, nothing. Just talking.

 

For Cho, it means so much more. She won’t lose her. She won’t be alone. Later she would learn that she had been silly, that couples fight but they also make up. They apologise. They learn from their mistakes.

 

They walk to the library in silence. They haven’t talked to each other for a week or so. She feels shy around her now that she’s made her angry at her. How would it be from now on?

 

“So, will we still have sex?” she asked nonchalantly. Pansy stopped, her eyes wide. Then she started laughing hysterically.

 

The fit of giggles wouldn’t subside and soon Cho found herself laughing just as hard as her. Once they’d calmed down, Pansy looked at her with a lopsided smile on her lips.

 

“Of course we will, you minx,” she says, poking her shoulder playfully. “Not here though. Unless that’s something that turns you on…”

 

Cho turns bright red. “No! It’s not,” she hurries to say.

 

Pansy laughs again and Cho smiles broadly, they proceed walking. They talk about things that have happened in class, what they have heard and seen lately, things like that. Easy subjects to talk about. She knows she’ll have to give it time. Ease into their relationship once again, they can’t just pretend like everything is the same. It would feel wrong to kiss her then.

 

In the library they find a secluded corner and sit down, opposite each other. They talk about what they’ll do about it, their relationship. It’s a little weird and Cho feels ill at ease. Pansy says that it’s alright if she struggles. She says she’ll try and help her as much as she could.

 

“Thanks,” Cho says, looking down. She wrings her hands. “I don’t really know what it is that you’re supposed to help me with, though.”

 

Pansy reaches for her hand, stroking her with her thumb. “I know,” she says. “You just tell me if something’s wrong and I’ll be there to patch you up. You can count on me.”

 

Cho looks at her. They stare at each other wordlessly.

 

“I think it will be difficult for us,” she says quietly.

 

“Nah,” Pansy says. “Nothing that wouldn’t be worth it.”

 

* * *

 

 

They’ll have to leave each to their respective homes in two days and she is sitting on her lap and they kiss and kiss and she cries but she tells her that they’ll be alright.

 

“You’re sentimental, and horrible and I love you,” Pansy tells her and she cries and laughs at the same time. She’s nothing short of hysteric.

 

“Stop it or I’ll start crying too,” she threatens. Cho pretends to zip her mouth shut and Pansy roars with laughter.

 

“I’ll write you,” Cho says, her voice muffled. She fishes a handkerchief from her pocket and wipes the tears before blowing her nose. “Ugh. Sorry.”

 

“You better write me or I’ll hunt you down,” Pansy says. “I’ll hex you.”

 

“Oh, how scary,” Cho says flatly. Pansy pokes her nose playfully and she smiles. Cho presses herself firmly against Pansy’s chest.

 

The sun is still shining warmly outside, it’s all orange, red and pink and she feels like her heart is going to burst out of her chest, she is so incredibly happy.

 

“I can’t believe we’re getting out of here,” she says. “Just two days.”

 

“I haven’t the foggiest about what to do afterwards,” Pansy admits.

 

“Neither do I,” Cho says. “I might get invited to join a quidditch team, though. I’m that good apparently.”

 

“That’d be really nice, wouldn’t it,” Pansy mutters.

 

“I guess,” Cho says noncommittally. “It doesn’t really matter.”

 

“But it should.”

 

“Well, I’m working on that,” Cho says quietly and Pansy embraces her.

 

 _Hold me tight. Don’t let me fall,_ she thinks and drifts off.


End file.
